Trying to Find the Light
by maej26
Summary: Follow-up to "Like Ships in the Night." Find out where Mike and Alex are a year later. m/m slash


**Title:** Trying to Find the Light

**Pairing:** Mike "The Miz" Mizanin and Alex Riley  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** Follow-up to "Like Ships in the Night." Find out where Mike and Alex are a year later.

**Disclaimer:** Story belongs to me. Characters belong to WWE.

**A/N:** Two and a half years later and I'm still such a mess over these two. Can ya tell?

Man oh man, I'm surprised by how much this one took out of me. Started it on 1/14 and didn't finish it until 2/14 and I've been working on it every day (except during the 4 days it took me to make my last vid). Definitely wasn't planned this way if that's what you're thinking. I would've put this out on 1/15 if I could have. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that one-shots never take me this long and now I'm weeks behind on a bunch of my shows. Worth it? You bet! Anything _Mizley_ always is.

Hope this hits the spot!

* * *

Mike's walking dangerously close to the man in front of him; might just step on his heels if he's not careful. He almost wishes he would. Out of malice, or maybe to deliberately instigate a confrontation. Or perhaps simply as an excuse to touch him. It's been so long since he's touched him. At this point, it feels like lifetimes ago and sometimes it feels like it was someone else's life. But it wasn't. It was his life. And his mistakes.

Slowly and indulgently, his eyes follow a vertical path up the man's body. All those muscles hidden under layers of warm clothing; surely they've changed in mass and dimension since he last saw them. And another change, a more apparent one – he's grown out his hair. Though, most of it's currently tucked beneath the hat of the day. After that, there's nothing but stars as he exits the arena; cold, crisp air hitting his face. He gazes up to the pinpoints of light faintly twinkling overhead; imagines what he could see if the city wasn't so overly populated. The views of the night sky he's had the privilege of witnessing from all over the world help paint the panoramic picture he longs to see and it's breathtaking. For a few uninterrupted seconds he's able to forget about the commotion of a full day of media and ignore the long night of travel that still lies ahead. And for this, he's grateful.

But his escape could never last as long as he'd like it to. It's an intrusive car horn that startles him out of his momentary getaway. He looks in front of him, the scene no longer obstructed and the feeling that pricks him because of it, is so fleeting he hasn't time enough to identify it. Directly ahead of him is a car – dark, four doors, tinted windows – and happens to be the very origin of the noisy disruption. And it was meant for _him_. Of course. He's so used to being on his own that he completely forgot he'd made arrangements earlier in the day to drive with someone else to the company's next destination.

He walks through puffs of his breath towards the idling car; its trunk already popped open, waiting like a begging mouth for the suitcase he's currently rolling behind him. The small wheels rumble against the rough asphalt, sending tingling vibrations straight into his hand and spreading up his numbing arm until he comes to a standstill. He pushes the handle down into its slot and hoists it up. That's weird. He automatically counts three suitcases in addition to his own. He knows he's not the only one tagging along, but a full car? Maybe one of the guys carries extra luggage? Lips pursed, nostrils flaring; snarls as he tries to find space. And if it turns out he's riding with some rookie who hasn't learned the art of packing lightly, he swears he'll lose it. It's been too stressful a day as it is to have it end like that.

Once he crams his suitcase into place, he opens the passenger side door – backseat. His eyes instantly widen, his body tenses. The man sitting in his line of sight might not be a rookie, but Mike sure remembers a time when he was.

"Mike," Alex says breathlessly, peering up at the guy.

"What's _he_ doing here?" The question is clearly directed towards the driver, but isn't responded to by him.

"Hi to you, too."

"You didn't tell me Riley was gonna be here!"

"Well, no one told me _you_ were gonna be here either," Alex interjects boldly, intentionally slathering his words with slimy sarcasm. He's well aware Mike's trying to avoid talking to him, or even looking at him, but then he does. His icy blue eyes emitting a cold, hard stare harsher than the wind outside. "Don't just stand there, get in. It's freezing." Attached to that undeserved consideration is an equally kind gesture – Alex starting to scoot over, offering his spot up to Mike.

"Don't bother." With a swift slamming of the door, Mike walks around to the other side of the vehicle, dragging his feet like his shoes are suddenly filled with lead. But it's not like there aren't any other options available to him. At the very least, he could hop on the bus or get a lift from someone else. He knows this, yet never once contemplates the notion. Instead, he lets his discontentment fester and after finally getting in, he can't help but mutter an unnecessary jab under his breath. "He doesn't even wrestle anymore."

"And how many matches have you had lately, _champ?_"

Mike grits his teeth, feels the heated color rush to his cheeks. He really walked into that one. From this point on, he vows to ignore Alex for the entirety of the trip, and better yet, just keep his big mouth shut altogether. Knows if he shoots it off again, he'll only dig himself in deeper. And, for once, he'd really rather not.

For the first hour or so, Mike sits quietly as the two guys in front aimlessly ramble on. But even then, there are a few times his strongly opinionated voice wants to be heard, especially when it comes to sports. He finds himself perking up, wanting to weigh in, but he bites his tempted tongue. Slouches back and looks out the window again, hoping his self-imposed censorship wasn't too obvious.

Alex, on the other hand, doesn't censor himself one bit. Whenever he feels compelled to do so, he chimes in without hesitation and every time Mike hears the man speak, he digs his fingertips into the middle section between them. And though it would seem, it's not because he's irritated by the man's voice. No. Not at all. It's precisely the opposite. He finds himself wishing Alex would never stop talking. Finds himself wishing the guy would say something so outrageous that he'd be shucked right out of his shell and forced to interact with him. But he agrees with mostly everything he says. There's nothing to find fault with. It's why they always used to get along so well.

With each passing mile, the gaps between topics become more and more prevalent and when all conversation has whittled down into complete silence, music fills the vapid space instead.

Mike's eyelids grow heavy – the blurry flashes of light zipping by having a somewhat hypnotic effect on him. The group's still got a few hours in front of them and he wants to fall asleep.

In that space between sleep and awake, he unknowingly strips himself of the contention he cloaks himself in. There's a window, a tiny opening where sunlight passes through, shining a spotlight on a dream he once had. But it wasn't a dream at all. In the frozen tundra of his life, a soft smile blossoms. It really happened. It was real. He focuses on the handsome man sitting across the table from him. It's Alex. His hair trimmed. His suit freshly pressed. He looks happy. And then he can feel the warmth of the man's hand under his own, not trying to move, but wanting to be there. This is the moment he drifts off to before he falls asleep at night. This is the moment he wishes he could live in; the point he wishes he could restart his life from.

Completely captivated, he loses himself in the man's eyes – bright and inviting, and more breathtaking than any vision of the night sky. His thumb strokes the top of Alex's hand soothingly which results in complementing smiles; each confident and secure in the unspoken knowledge that everything will be all right.

But that's not exactly what happened.

No, don't let go. Stay in that place where those versions of events were real. Stay in that cocoon of warmth that hasn't felt this real since the night it happened. Because it did happen. Mike squeezes Alex's hand and wants that warmth to lull him into a peaceful sleep, the way it always does, and it should be so easy since the man is so close.

But it's slipping away. Why's it slipping away? It never slips away.

On the one hand, Alex sitting next to him in the car offers unparalleled comfort, but it also reminds him of an unfortunate truth. One that won't allow him to fall asleep to such a beautiful thought. Instead, his memories propel him forward in time, to a place he's tried so hard to forget; a place where it's no longer possible to pretend like it _would_ be all right.

It's inexcusable. Unfair and undeserved. He remembers how he accosted his best friend's girlfriend on live TV and humiliated her; how he finally came clean about his feelings for the guy after being confronted for his behavior, and then how Alex rejected him and told him he was over him. And when he can't stop the reel of recollection from playing back what took place a few days later, he grimaces. The suffocating saran wrap of animosity he clings to, clings right back to him. And that viscous, unwanted tension – that for a solid year he's been basting over the roasting pit of betrayal – settles in the space that separates him from his former friend once again.

Bitterness invades his mouth; has trouble swallowing. And breathing. He clutches his chest as it tightens and if this hadn't happened to him before, he might think he was dying. Just as he lifts his head to request a pit stop, he realizes they've already parked. It's still too soon to be at the hotel, though.

The driver pulls the key out of the ignition and opens his door. But before stepping out, he cocks his head towards the backseat. "You guys comin'?"

Mike looks out the window – a diner. A 24-hour godsend. "Go ahead," he answers, noticeably relieved. "I'm not hungry."

"You sure?"

"Am I sure? What am I? Twelve? What kind of question is that? Of course, I'm sure." Actually, Mike's lying through his teeth. The truth is, he's starving, but he can't go in there, not with Alex. But Alex doesn't seem to be moving. And by the time this registers, the other two guys have already entered the restaurant. It's just him and Alex now. He turns to the man next to him, angrily, almost frantically, and breaks the silent treatment he had resorted to. "You're not going in with them?"

"Nope. Not hungry."

"You mocking me?"

"Am I not allowed to not be hungry?"

"You can be whatever you wanna be. I just don't buy it. One, it's freezing out here. And two, since when do you turn down a meal?"

"One, I don't get cold very easily. And two, I could say the same for you." Alex pauses, looks the guy over with genuine concern. "Mike, I'm not deaf. I've heard your stomach swirling since we left the arena. Why not just go in and get a bite to eat?"

"Because I thought _you_ were going to," Mike snaps impulsively.

"Aww, I'm flattered. I had no idea I had that much influence over your decisions."

"Believe me, you don't affect me in the least."

"So then, me going in stops you how?"

Incensed, Mike unfastens his seatbelt and turns towards Alex, glaring at the facetious man intensely. Shoves his finger in his face to further sell his conviction. "Maybe I can't stand the sight of you. Maybe I can't stand the thought of having to sit near you for one more second. Maybe I needed five minutes without having to listen to your mindless droning."

"And yet, here we are," Alex says, seemingly unfazed by Mike's disparaging remarks.

"Only because you're trying to piss me off!"

"But of course, that's not what's happening here, is it?" Alex squints his eyes, allowing the tiniest glint of flirtation to shine through. "Because I don't affect you in the least…Unless that's _not_ what you just said."

Mike's glued to Alex, a magnetic force. A bizarre mixture of anger and perfect contentment surge through his system; no room for anxiety. Can't help the telling smile that glistens in his own eyes for a split second, as if he's thoroughly enjoying the antagonistic banter, and then he uncharacteristically retreats. Falls back to his side of the car.

"I hate to break it to you," Alex says, more than willing to seize the opening. "But I don't do things to be vindictive. That's _your_ thing."

And there's Mike's cue to go back on the defense; the deep crinkles in his forehead gathering as his brow furrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Give me a break," Alex says, rolling his eyes. "Like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about. But if you insist, here's a brief recap: I didn't want to be with you and because you couldn't handle that, you iced me out of your life ever since."

"You thought I actually wanted to be with you?" The tone of Mike's delivery is so rife with condescension, he doesn't realize he's trying too hard. "Why would I want to be with you when I was dating the hottest girl in the- _I was fucking with your head!_"

"You were in _tears_ you wanted me so bad-"

"Shut up!"

And with that sudden outburst Mike's tipped his hand completely. Alex instantly knows he struck a nerve. One that runs internally deep. "Oh, _Alex_, maybe I made a mistake. I look at the way you are with her," Alex whimpers, holding his chest and looking to Mike with the reflection of heartbreak in his eyes, "and I see what we could have had-"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Mike is livid. Those were _his_ words, _his_ heart bleeding in his hand, and the look in Alex's eyes is like looking back in time. He might as well be looking into his own eyes from that night. That was _his_ heartbreak, _his_ devastation. How could Alex be so cruel?

Alex smirks sadistically. "See, that's what vindictive looks like. And that's what you wanted, isn't it? So you could go on telling yourself that you do have a good reason to be so mad at me." He chuckles knowingly. "Yeah, I get to you-"

"I swear to God, if you don't shut your mouth, I'll shut it for you."

"Oh, and we both know how good you are at keeping your promises, don't we? Face it, Mike. I know how to get under your skin. I know where your buttons are. I know you better than anyone else on the planet. You think no one sees you, but I see you. I see right through this pathetic little act of yours."

Mike is seething and hurt and can't bear for Alex to say another taunting word, no matter how truthful some of them may be, so he follows through with his threat. He lunges at the provoker, straddling him, and thrusts his forearm into the side of his face. "I told you to shut up," he hisses through a tensed jaw, a tear revealed in his cracking voice. As he awaits Alex's counter, he can feel the pinned man moving under him, his body undulating as he breathes heavily. He can feel the man's hands on his hips, though he's not trying to defend himself; he's not trying to push Mike off at all. It's like he's waiting for something. In addition to that, Mike can feel his own reaction to the situation. Blood rushing to his face, making him feel like he's burning. And blood rushing in another direction.

In this particular moment, there's an honesty revealed in his body's unfettered response. An undeniable attraction that he can't hide or deny. There's a part of him that's desperate for Alex to grab him. And not his hips. Unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, reach in and grab him. And when he protests in opposition – which he undoubtedly and predictably would, because he's stubborn and inherently defiant – he wants Alex to ignore him. Assert his will and take what it is he wants, because deep down, he knows it's what the man on top of him wants, too. Do anything so drastic, so dramatic and unexpected, it turns the fortified bulwark of brick and mortar built up between the two into dust for the wind to disperse into a layer so thin it'll be like it was never even there.

Oh, but he can feel it. He swears he can feel Alex's hand wrapped around him. Grasping him. Choking him. So familiar, as if it was his own. But stronger, larger. Warmer. He can feel it, but only because he wants it so badly. His weeping body screams out, but his plea can't be heard. Mike knows Alex is too respectful in that regard, too damned conscientious of his boundaries – of the sound-deflecting wall – and where he knows he has no justifiable right to tread.

Mike scowls painfully, releasing the breath he'd been holding. Resents the man even more for not doing what he wishes he would. "I fucking hate you," he says, violently shoving Alex's face as he pushes off; whips back around and gets as far away from the guy as he can – while still staying within the confines of the car…and in the backseat.

Alex catches his breath, and his thoughts. Rubs the reddened cheekbone Mike had been smashing his arm against. "That's funny," he finally says, "because I could never hate you."

"Well, if I had done to you what you did to me, I guarantee you'd hate me, too."

"For Christ sake, what did I ever do to you?!"

"Stop acting like you don't know!"

"If I know anything, it's this, Mike Mizanin. You made me think I actually had a chance with you. I spill my heart out to you, with decency and a level of maturity, and respect to your relationship with Maryse – that's become quite clear you would never afford to me – and you reject me, flat out, and cut me off – promises be damned – and leave me to suffer for the better part of a year while I tried to put myself back together. And then you stride back into my life like nothing ever happened and when I finally have the _audacity_ to move on with someone, you come to me all jealous and threatened and territorial. Fucking entitled, like you have some claim over me, like I'm your property, like I'm just gonna fall to your feet. And the best part is, you tell me you're gonna leave her!" Alex is on the verge of a kind of laughter that reflects the absurdity of the situation, but quickly becomes serious again. "And then what do you do after all that bullshit? You jilt me all over again and treat me like I'm a leper for the next twelve months."

"No way are you putting this on me when you're the one who fucked everything up." Mike glares at Alex, shocked by the outpouring and repulsed by the look of confusion plastered on his face. Now, he has no choice but to say it out loud. "You told her about us!"

The confusion Mike found so distasteful, intensifies.

"Layla," he expounds. "You told my girlfriend's friend that you were leaving her to be with me. On what planet do you think she would ever keep that from Maryse, Alex?"

Alex's chin quivers ever so slightly, his eyes glazing over. "She told her?"

"Oh my God. Yes, she told her! And then she broke up with me."

Alex is taken aback. Something's off. Mike's ire seems misplaced. "So, that's what you're so mad about? You said you were going to leave her. So, what's the big deal? Oh, let me guess, it's because it wasn't on _your_ terms, right? I forgot, everything's always gotta be on your-"

"You had no right to tell her," Mike says calmly, almost to himself.

Alex takes a deep, rationalizing breath. Maybe he doesn't see what the big deal is, but that shouldn't matter because it's clearly had an impact on Mike's life. "Fine, you're right. It wasn't my place to mention you. But, Mike," he says emotionally, "she reminded me so much of myself when _you_… She was heartbroken and I just wanted her to walk away knowing that it wasn't anything she did wrong. And I know I said I didn't believe you when you told me you'd leave Maryse, but how could I not get my hopes up after that? It was all I ever wanted. After all that time of trying to forget about you and teaching myself to not- It all came rushing back. And because of that hope I had, I couldn't keep seeing her. And for some reason I felt like I owed her the truth. Maybe to give her some peace of mind, or maybe because I just wanted someone else to know. But I never thought she'd tell Maryse. I thought I could trust her. Obviously, I knew her as much as she knew me." Alex stares at Mike; wishes he knew what was going on inside that maze of a mind. "I am sorry I screwed things up for you. That was never my intention. But if you could find a way to move past this, then maybe we could start over."

Mike lowers his head. "You just don't get it."

"What? What am I missing?"

"You ruined my life!"

Alex balls up his fist, frustrated as hell. "Goddamn it! Are we just gonna keep going around in circles here? You were gonna end things with her anyway! You wanted to be with _me_. Not her!"

"No. I'm not talking about this anymore," Mike says sternly.

"That's right. Shut down any progress we might be making, because, I don't know. You're scared? You're embarrassed? You're fucking impossible, that's what you are. I guess I'll look forward to continuing this conversation with you in another year."

"Yeah, I guess so!"

Alex rolls his eyes as he curses under his breath.

For the next two hours, each man looks out his respective window and doesn't say a single word.

**xxxx**

Walking into the hotel lobby suddenly feels like walking out on stage to a packed arena. But in this circumstance, Mike has no obligation to do anything, and because of that, he decides to take a breather instead. And this time when he stays behind, no one bothers to show any interest one way or another. If he wants to stand outside in the cold, that's on him.

He paces, acts as if he's making an important phone call – at four in the morning! – but really he's just waiting for the others to head to their rooms. Unfortunately, there's only so long he can keep stalling without bringing too much attention to himself and what he's really doing. And that's about the only kind of attention he actively avoids.

Finally, after unnecessarily freezing his ass off, he succumbs to inevitability and makes his delayed entrance. He tries to bypass the group and make it over to the counter before they can pull him aside for whatever reason. Uses a deflective question to aid in his attempt. "You fools done lollygagging around or what?"

"We were waiting for you."

Damn. Heavily annoyed, Mike stops dead in his tracks. Looks around at the loiterers, purposely failing to make eye contact with Alex, and is startled when he's handed a keycard. "What's this?"

"Turns out there were only two rooms left."

"Are you kidding me?!" Mike instantly looks to the desk clerk to verify and the kid shrugs, as if he's delivering bad news. Mike huffs; looks back towards the group – to two-thirds of the men anyway. "Fine, what's _one_ night? So, which one of you two gets the pleasure of my company?"

"Uh," Alex says cautiously, leaning in towards Mike and raising his hand slightly as if he's just been called upon. "Actually, _I'm_ the lucky one."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, c'mon. It'll be like old times."

"I'll sleep on the floor if I have to," Mike insists with a reflexive nod, like he's trying to convince someone, but certainly not Alex. He's still trying his damnedest to ignore that the man is even there. Not surprisingly, his suggestion is met only with ridicule. "Okay, then I'll sleep in the car." But before he can ask for the keys, the other two men are already walking away, snickering under their breath.

After a fruitless procrastination attempt, Mike reluctantly makes his way to the elevator. On the ride up to their designated floor, he turns to Alex accusingly. "Was this your idea?"

"Wow," Alex exclaims enthusiastically. His eyes wide, his smile broad. "I love how you think I have so much power. Yes, Mike. This was all my idea. And I've been planning it for weeks now. Paid off the guy at the front desk and even roped the others into playing along. Because, you know, any other night they would've been fighting each other tooth and nail to bunk with you. But yep, I did all this so I could torture myself by sharing a room with the most annoying person on the planet." Alex's articulation of those last five words is intentionally meant to spark indignation in Mike, and he can see that it's working. "I know, I'm a genius. Thank you very much."

Mike looks like he could pummel Alex, but the doors open in the nick of time, sparing him from making a public spectacle out of himself. He doesn't let go of his hostility though and the second they enter the privacy of their room, he turns to Alex and takes a full swing at the guy. Knocks him square in the jaw.

"Son of a bitch!" Alex grabs hold of his tender face and looks to Mike. Takes a moment to collect himself, doesn't want to overreact. "Okay, maybe I deserved that for telling Layla, but if you ever do that again-"

No time to finish his warning. Mike's taking another swing, but this time Alex ducks. Protective instinct kicks in and he tackles Mike, ramming into him and slamming him onto the bed. Quickly pins his wrists above his head before the guy has a chance to pull away; strategically positions himself between his thighs in a way that makes it impossible for Mike to move his legs. He's trapped, no matter how much he struggles. Which he does, but his struggle's in vain because Alex has always been the stronger of the two and has no problem demonstrating it. The fact that the guy's been out of action for an extended period of time obviously hasn't tipped the scales in anyone else's favor.

"Get off me," Mike demands, eyes shut tight, squirming under Alex's firm hold. And when he realizes Alex isn't budging, he opens his eyes, surprised by how close their faces are – like he didn't already know. His gaze is fixated on Alex's mouth; feels the man's breath feathering his lips and he surrenders. No more trying to free himself; it's as if he already has. He tilts his chin up as he's drawn in by beckoning blues.

"You like it rough, don't you?"

Too much. Mike sneers and thrashes about, knows his arousal is easily detected and spits in Alex's face because of it. But Alex isn't discouraged. He grips Mike's wrists harder and laps his tongue across the man's lips, leaving no room for interpretation.

Mike's left feeling paralyzed, his eyes starting to water unexpectedly, like he may cry. All that deep-seated desire he tried to mask with disdain becomes a disappointment he can't mask at all. In the car he silently yearned for Alex to take what he wanted, by any means necessary. But now, after having experienced what that would be like, he realizes that's not what he wants, not even close. He would never want Alex to become that man. And he would never want to be the reason for it.

Just then, he's released. The weight on top of him falls to his side and he's left staring at the ceiling; eyes stinging. Stunned by the whole exchange.

Feeling like he's just been forced to tap out of the most important match of his life, Alex buries his face in the crook of his arm. Uses the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the saliva from his cheek, the tears seeping from his eyes. Tries to hide his embarrassment. "Tell me," he sobs. "Please tell me what I have to do because I've tried everything I can think of tonight. I've been nice to you. I've been mean to you. Been sarcastic and demeaning. Treated you in ways that make me want to vomit. I've attacked you and let you attack me. I've lied. I've been brutally honest."

Mike turns his face in the opposite direction of Alex when he hears the man let out a whimper of frustration. Hates hearing him sound so powerless, so defeated. Overtaken by shame, he discreetly turns his face further into the comforter to dry the corner of his eye.

"Patience, persistence, indifference. It's all the same to you," Alex says, his tired voice fading into a helpless whisper. "You're impenetrable."

Mike tries to hold back his tears as everything slowly sinks in, his body starting to shake from bottling up the emotion and then he's still. He becomes weak. Too weak to cry, too weak to move. Without that one word, maybe it wouldn't have clicked, but Mike knows Alex said it for a reason. He realizes everything the guy has said and done has been a siege on his part. A night long attempt to disarm him…Or maybe it was a recovery effort. "So then, you _were_ behind tonight," he says numbly.

"Well, it's not like I knew you were gonna stay in the car. I followed your lead on that one – even though it _was_ cold and I _was_ hungry. But yeah, I'm the reason you were asked to drive with us. Y'know, sometimes when you're nice to people, they tend to do you favors."

"So, they were in on this, too…Do they _know?_"

Alex shakes his head. "They only think I wanted to give you a hard time."

"And the room?"

"Not my idea. I guess they thought it'd be funny since you were standing outside, refusing to come in. But I wasn't about to put a stop to it either. I wanted more time. Turned out the kid at the counter's a fan, so it worked out in my favor, I guess. Mike, I know I pushed too hard, but I needed to do something to get you to react and not shut me out. I'm not proud of what I've done, but I don't regret it either. The only regret I have is walking away from you after you admitted how you felt and I won't do it again."

As much as he's tried to thwart Alex's every maneuver, he can't deny the man's methods have been effective. He can't deny it's what he wanted all along; what he needed. He licks his lips, tasting the traces of the man that still linger, overcome by his bravery and steadfast resolve. He wants to be that brave, and for that to happen, he knows he has to stop being so guarded. And if not now, he may very well blow his last chance. "You wanna know how you ruined my life? You exposed me. You exposed _us_. You told one person who told someone else. That's all it takes and I couldn't give anyone any reason to think it was true. That's not where I was in my life. So, I let you go. And I knew if I told you, you would have fought for us. And you would've won."

The long-awaited breakthrough causes Alex to sigh heavily, as if an anvil has been lifted from his chest. Didn't realize how difficult breathing had become for him until it became easy again. It's a relief that outweighs any resentment that might accompany it. He stays in that place where the truth hugs him, comforts him. And then he thinks about how Mike must feel. There's only one place the man next to him could possibly derive comfort from and it sure as hell isn't in the truth. He reaches out to the broken man, wanting to be that source, but Mike shies away.

"I meant what I said before. I could never hate you."

"Maybe you should."

"No," Alex says, reaching out again, this time successfully. Gently combs his fingers through Mike's hair. "Not ever."

Mike allows his eyes to close as Alex strokes the back of his head over and over. It's rhythmic and calming.

"I never would've put myself through all this for someone I could hate. And if you want the absolute truth, I'd never put myself through this for anyone but you. You know why? Because what I told you two years ago still holds true."

"How can it?"

"Because that connection we had never went away. Because after you didn't reciprocate my feelings and you stopped being my friend, I went somewhere. Somewhere dark and lonely. I didn't think I'd ever make it out of that place, but then I did. One night, out of the blue, you came up to me backstage and asked if I needed a lift to the hotel. I don't think you ever knew what that did for me. How it lifted me out of that darkness. I don't think you're aware of most things you do."

Alex pauses, pulls his arm in close to his chest. He waits for Mike to respond, but his only acknowledgment comes in the form of a sniffle.

"After you came back into my life, I thought I had to do something to assure you that my feelings for you had gone away. I thought it'd be easier that way, for both of us. It's why I started seeing Layla. It's why I tried to get you to back off when I knew exactly what you were doing and why you were doing it. I was determined to make myself believe that I could walk away from you because I never wanted to risk going back to that place you brought me out of. But that lasted about a day and I wanted to come to you and tell you that I'd wait for you, however long it took. But everything got turned upside down again. I didn't understand where you went, and then I did. You went to that place I had gone to, and when I realized that, I wished to God it could've been me instead."

Alex lets that last thought stand on its own long enough to fully be absorbed. Watches as Mike starts to fidget, like he's affected.

"If I didn't know any better, I might actually think you like being this angry. But I do know better. That's why I've been trying to get to you. I didn't want to hound you because I didn't want to push you away even more than I already managed to, but since nothing else was working, I thought it was worth a shot. Tonight's the first time I've seen you fighting, trying to pull yourself up, like you're hanging off a cliff, and every time I think _this is it_, you loosen your grip just to spite me. I wanted so badly to be for you what you were for me."

This time when Alex stops talking, Mike turns around to face him. His vulnerability on display, his eyes puffy and sad.

"There you are," Alex whispers, reaching out and caressing the guy's scruffy cheek. "So much pain. I don't think anyone else can see how much pain you're in."

Mike starts breathing heavily and Alex recognizes that frightened look from before, when he came on too strong. Sure enough, Mike sits up.

As if he's being tugged on by a connecting rope, Alex sits up, too, Mike's name on the tip of his tongue. But the man's already to his feet and walking away. "Please don't let everything that happened tonight be for nothing," Alex pleads, but Mike's already in the bathroom – door shut.

**xxxx**

Mike splashes cool water on his face – overheated, overwhelmed. He leans against the countertop, collecting the courage to look himself in the eye and when he finally connects with his reflection, the look on his face, combined with his surroundings, takes him back to a similar moment. If only he had spoken up that night in the restaurant when Alex followed him into the bathroom.

_What was that?_

_That was me wanting to hold your hand because you should be on this date with me._

It would have been as simple as that. That one sentence could have changed everything. He never would have harbored any resentment towards Layla. He never would have let his jealousy get the best of him that night on commentary. And most of all, Layla never would have wanted to get back at him. Because that's why she told Maryse. To humiliate him the way he humiliated her. Mike knows this now. And maybe he always has. Maybe it was just easier to convince himself there'd be some horrific fallout if people knew about his relationship with Alex rather than taking responsibility for the fact that he was the driving force behind everything that went wrong.

A whole year wasted. Mike stares at himself wondering how he could be so selfish. Even now. He could be out there with Alex making up for lost time and yet something still holds him back from going after what he wants.

A gentle knock draws him to the bathroom door. He presses his forehead against it, wanting to be on the other side. Imagines Alex doing the same; there's no reason why he can't be. He frowns, baffled by how close he can be to the man and still feel like there's an ocean between them. But not all is lost. Progress has been made, he takes comfort in that. He knows that distance was far greater earlier when he was walking behind the guy, admiring his form as they exited the arena.

After a few seconds, he hears Alex say his name as if he's asking a question. The sound of the man's voice is melodic and soothing, and Mike's eyes drift shut because of it. Another knock follows, this time more assertive. He answers it immediately, excited because he knows who's on the other side. It's Alex. But he looks younger. And the threshold they're standing underneath frames a different doorway. In a different hotel room. In another city. In another time.

Mike's beaming when he invites his friend in. And when Alex asks if they can talk about something, he's more than happy to drop everything he's doing and give the guy his undivided attention.

"I've put this off for a while now," Alex admits. "At first because I wanted to be certain. And then I put it off because I didn't wanna do anything that could jeopardize our friendship."

"My God, Alex, don't be ridiculous."

"No, Mike, I'm serious. I already know this is a long shot, but I need you to know."

"What is it?"

"Before I say anything, promise me you won't let this come between us. Because I couldn't handle it if I lost you."

"I promise."

_I promise._ Mike echoes those two words to himself as he leans against the bathroom door, his knees growing weak as he relives the conversation he had with Alex that night. How open and candid the guy was regarding his feelings; explaining how they developed gradually and consistently until they became too powerful to ignore. He remembers being in awe as Alex spoke, as if the man was reading from the pages of his own soul.

That was his chance to come clean, for them to experience the gamut of emotions together. Share in the terror, the nerves, the happiness, the excitement…the relief. But instead, he cowered inside of himself. He denied Alex the truth and he broke his promise.

It's the source of all his guilt – which he expresses in the form of anger and resentment towards the one person who's never done anything to deserve it. It's why he won't let go of that night in the restaurant. It's always been easier to remember that night as his greatest regret, because it wasn't. It was his way of holding onto Alex without assuming culpability, at least not all of it. Because at least when Alex had a girlfriend they could share in the blame together. But that doesn't work anymore. Not when Mike's face to face with the actual timeline of events. The second he chose to lie was the second he was sent hurling down the wrong path. So many wrong turns.

But Alex is _here_. He's found him and has graciously given him back the fateful moment so he can correct course. With this realization, Mike picks himself up off the floor and makes a new promise – to not let another chance pass him by.

He opens the door, eager to see Alex, but he's not there. Mike looks around the room, even calls out the man's name and when there's no answer, his stomach folds over on itself. He waited too long. Alex has already left. But wait-

The instant Mike spots Alex's suitcase still sitting in the corner, the door opens and he catches his breath. He's mesmerized by the sight in front of him. He's not sure if he's ever seen anything more beautiful. "I thought you left."

Alex shakes his head, consumed by the way Mike's looking at him – hopeful and grateful. "Only for a minute. I figured you must still be hungry," he says, generously extending his hand to Mike. "A peace offering. Choices were limited, but don't worry, I didn't get any chips."

Mike returns Alex's sweet smile and goes to grab the snacks, but he overreaches. Accidentally grabs the man's hand instead. His face drops, as does his gaze. It's that same warmth he felt earlier when he was drifting off to sleep. It's exactly the same. He looks up to Alex with tears dancing in his eyes. "Oh," he says softly. "In the car. I held your hand?"

Alex starts to tear up. He didn't think Mike knew what he had done. And if by some chance he did, he never thought the guy would actually own up to it. That's why he didn't draw attention to it; thought it best to act as if nothing happened. But secretly, he thought of it as a gift. And the way Mike squeezed him, reassured him he was on the right track.

Mike strokes Alex's hand with his thumb – the way he did in the car, the way he did in the restaurant. And that consoling warmth he feels spreads like wildfire when Alex releases the snack bags and opts to touch his hand, too. His heart pounds as his fingers mingle with Alex's. It's intimate, sensual. Fearless. It's meeting for the first time. Discovery, as if a hand has never known another hand. His eyes meander to Alex's parted lips and then he subconsciously drags his tongue across his own quivering lips as he reestablishes eye contact. He knows if he hadn't been so damned erratic he wouldn't have to verbalize his wishes, as obvious as they may be. But he must. "Kiss me."

Alex's reaction time is slightly delayed. There's a considerable amount of disbelief, but mostly, he just wants to relish the request, remember the look in Mike's eyes for the rest of his life. After he takes in the exquisite turn of events, he grabs hold of Mike's hand. Tosses the guy's arm over his shoulder as he brings him in close, wrapping his arm around him so tight he raises him to his toes, his other hand holding Mike's face. He kisses him so passionately it causes Mike to whimper. It's satisfaction and peace on a level Mike's never known, or even knew could exist. If he had, there's no way he would have been able to resist Alex as long as he did.

A kiss years in the making, and of this magnitude, is hard to pull away from, but Mike manages, tilting his head back, gasping for air, breathing Alex's name as the man transfers his affections to his neck. And then suddenly, the two syllables on Mike's breath are replaced by three.

Alex stops everything, even holds his breath, wondering if he heard Mike correctly. Though, the knot in his stomach tells him he did. But just so there's no confusion, Mike holds his partner's face in the palm of his hands, presses his forehead to Alex's and tells him again. "I love you."

Another bout of disbelief on Alex's part. And on Mike's part, another utterance of the declaration, followed by a brief kiss for added emphasis.

"I love you," Alex whispers tenderly as he melts into a sumptuous kiss. They only ever break away to take off each other's clothes, but even then they barely notice any separation, because really, there is none. No longer is it just the intimacy of their hands, the sensual exploration of each other's fingers – it's their whole bodies that are engaged. Mike hugging, pressing, feeling those muscles he was only allowed to imagine hours earlier. And Alex holding him, and feeling him, and rubbing against him. The friction generates a heat that negates winter's relevance and a mirrored hardness requiring a hard touch. It's aching, throbbing urgency that leads them straight to the bed where they can move more freely, more fluidly; tumbling across the mattress until they expire.

Alex leisurely kisses Mike; loves his tongue and the way it tastes and what he does with it. Loves the way his leg is wrapped around him, resting in the dip of his hip. With all his weight firmly on his left side, he finally pulls away, wanting to look into his lover's eyes. "We needed that," he says breathlessly, running his fingers through the man's dampened hair.

Mike gazes up to Alex blissfully; never has he felt more safe. He looks him over, admires his incandescent expression, all his pleasing features, but two temporary bruises stand out. He tilts Alex's head inwardly and reaches up to kiss the man's jaw, right where he had punched him; kisses his cheek where he had dug his forearm into. "I'm so sorry," he whispers as he caresses his face. "I'm sorry I held the Layla thing against you. You were right to think you could trust her. If I hadn't been so mean to her, I don't think it would've ever crossed her mind to blab to Maryse. She really did like you, anyone with eyes could see that. Who wouldn't like you?"

Alex can't help but blush, his dimples accentuated by his growing smile. He leans in and brushes the tip of his nose to Mike's, making the guy giggle, but he won't be sidetracked.

"I'm sorry for the way I handled that whole situation and, most of all, I'm sorry I lied about not having feelings for you when I did."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth, Mike?"

"Are you kidding? I didn't even tell _myself_ the truth." Mike laughs awkwardly and then he tucks his chin in, still trying to acquaint himself with the feeling brought on by honesty. "I downplayed it for a long time, telling myself it was because I didn't deserve you. But when you stopped smiling, I realized I lived for that smile." Mike tries to take a deep breath, but he feels restricted. "I didn't tell you the truth because I was in love with you," he whispers. "I loved you. Too much, I think. And that scared the shit out of me."

"How come?"

"Because I'd give you everything. But I didn't, did I?" Mike's heart starts to palpitate angrily. He breaks eye contact, feeling uneasy in his own skin and starts to squirm because of it. "I took it all away and instead of talking to you, I fucked everything up even worse and let all that grief and guilt eat away at me and I've wasted all this time-"

"Hey…" Alex cups Mike's cheek, capturing his attention. "I don't want you to hold onto this hurt anymore." He shifts his focus upwards an inch and lightly strokes the pale mark above Mike's eyebrow. "It'll fade," he says and then kisses him in that spot. "All scars do. But until then, you could hold onto me instead."

Mike takes Alex's advice, holding him tight and they lie in each other's arms until Mike's stomach growls. Alex kisses Mike's belly and then leans off the side of the bed and picks up the snacks he had bought at the vending machine. They each eat from their own bag and playfully feed the other, laughing euphorically, not because anything's particularly funny, but because they're really happy. After all this time, they've finally found their old, friendly selves again – but now with kissing and nakedness.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other in a way that, only a few hours ago seemed beyond any realm of possibility, Alex gulps, surprised by what catches his eye. "The sun's up," he says, motioning to the window.

"Took it long enough."

Alex chuckles. Has a feeling anything Mike says for the rest of the day will make him laugh and then he nudges the guy's shoulder. "What do you say we get cleaned up and go downstairs and get some real food in us."

"I would love that."

"And who knows, maybe I might even let you hold my hand."


End file.
